Unwrapping Taehyung

Chapter Four

***Sorry. This chapter is a little shorter than I had originally planned, but with any luck, I will have Jungkook's chapter ready to upload in a day or two. Thanks for reading.***

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Taehyung

The time I spent with Jungkook was like boxing with my frontal lobe. Still, time went by stupidly fast, and before I knew it, it was time to present our party plan to Namjoon. We didn't have 'a' party plan, though, we had two - Jungkook's and mine. We had never reached an agreement on anything, and I'd started doing my workouts at the gym nights instead of mornings so I could avoid talking about it anymore. Because, well, Jungkook.

He'd stroll into my room like some mob enforcer come to shake me down, like he owned the joint, wandering around looking at my stuff. Being the sole focus of Jungkook's attention was like having a record-winning fastball speeding toward your face. On the one hand, you had to marvel at how good the throw was. On the other hand, you were about to get brained.

Jungkook had a wicked tongue. I kept up with him as well as I did only because I disliked him so much. Or rather, I liked the idea of disliking him. I suppose I really admired him in a weird, masochistic way, but it was more fun to hate on him. If you know what I mean. If I actually liked him in any way, shape or form I'd probably be tongue-tied around him. But since I disliked him, I could snark back and not give a crap what he thought of my ideas.

Mostly.

"What is this?" Namjoon asked.

Jungkook and I stood in Namjoon's office, our arms folded over our chests in what Jungkook would call a 'classic defenseless posture'. I knew that because he'd called me on it more than once. The little shit.

Namjoon picked up a slick black report binder and flipped through it. I caught a glimpse of a layout of the downstairs of the house done on some kind of CAD/CAM program. I knew it! I knew Jungkook would trick his fucking out. I was glad I spent all that extra time on mine. I had fucking pie charts. In color. And a full budget.

"Why are there two?" Namjoon asked flatly as he picked up my proposal and looked it over.

"We couldn't agree, so we figured we'd let you pick," I said.

"Because obviously," Jungkook added, "your priority will be whatever makes the BTS frat look the best. And not other factors. Like blood relations." Jungkook looked at the ceiling innocently.

"Good God." Namjoon unfolded the redhead centerfold in a bikini that I'd put in as a visual representation for my beach theme. Joonie liked redheads. "You guys spent this much time on this thing, but couldn't take ten minutes to collaborate?"

Ha! Little did my brother know the excruciating hours we'd spent collaborating. Or maybe just picking on each other.

Jungkook looked at me. "There's a native American legend. It says the one day a white buffalo will be born during a summer storm. The crows will nest with the eagles and salmon will spawn in the sea. Then, and only then, will Taehyung and Jungkook find a common vision." I chocked back a laugh. Jungkook was funny. I had to give him that. He was even more amusing when he was busting someone else's balls instead on mine.

Namjoon dumped both proposals in the trash.

"Hey!" I said. "I worked hard on that!"

"Here's what I want," Jonnie said in his nice-guy-about-to-lose-it voice. "You have twenty-four hour to put a joint plan on my desk. I don't care if it has two words on it 'charades' and 'lemonade'. I don't care if it's scrawled on a napkin in red crayon. But I'm not going to arbitrate your battles. You feel me?"

"So... " Jungkook said slowly, "The goal here is not to actually have a great party to increase the fraternity's reputation, but to be some sort of hugely ironic team-building exercise? Is this a research project for an eco-survivalist class or something?"

"Wait. Is this because mom always liked me best?" I asked.

Namjoon opened his office door and gave us a flat smile. "Have a good night, gentlemen. See you tomorrow at eight pm sharp."

I headed for my room, Jungkook on my heels. I tried to shut the door in his face, but he just pushed it open again and followed me inside. "I'm going for a workout," I said. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a ratty old T-shirt from the dresser.

"We have twenty-four hours, and I have a full class schedule tomorrow," Jungkook complained.

"Look, I'll find you after, okay? Beleive me, it's better if I take my aggression out on inanimate iron first."

Jungkook cocked his head to the side, watching me as I stripped off my long-sleeved thermal and put on my T-shirt. "Do you actually see the testosterone pour out of you when you work out, or is it more of a mist?"

I ignored him and dropped trou to change, very purposely mooning him. When I turned around, the coward was gone.

I loved working out. It was quiet. Like, you get into the zone and block everything else out. No one bothers you. It's just you and your own body. I loved how I could affect my muscles, how I had the control. I could decide if I wanted bigger biceps a work toward that, or I could decide to let them go down a bit. It was my choice. I didn't have any ambitions to be some huge steroid monkey, like the guys you see on the front cover of muscle magazines. I just wanted to be... fit-looking. Strong. Healthy. When I watched myself lifting weights in the mirror, I felt... alive. I could believe that I was fine-better that fine. I needed it, mentally. If I didn't get to work out for a while, I started goin' batshit crazy and my muscles ached like they were shrinking-slowly and with great resentment, like the melting wicked witch of the west.

That night while I worked out, I found myself looking in the mirror for a 'mist'. I laughed out loud at myself. Fucking Jungkook! I looked around, hoping no one had seen me chortling to myself like a psychotic hyena. But no one was watching me. Weird that it didn't feel that way. Why did I feel like Jungkook was watching even when he wasn't there?

THANK YOU.